


A Gift for a Crush

by metalhawk



Category: Transformers
Genre: Empurata, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:07:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalhawk/pseuds/metalhawk
Summary: Whirl decides to give one of his watches to someone special to him.





	A Gift for a Crush

Whirl layed back, barely able to keep still on the ever-so-uncomfortable therapy table—that did absolutely nothing to calm him as he raged on once more about the Functionists' many crimes against him. Taking his hands, his head!

Rung listened intently, jotting down the new details that Whirl had decided to reveal to him—even though he always had sessions recorded. Whirl had slowly grown more comfortable with the therapist (his relationship with this shitty bed, however, had yet to improve) and even caught the slightest feelings for the orange mech.

Even though Whirl would never dare admit that.

He jolted up mid-speech. Rung, slightly concerned, raised his prominent eyebrows.   
  
"Are you alright, Whirl?"

"I hate this bed."

"Well, feel free to make adjustments," Rung said, placing a comforting servo on his arm. Whirl swore he could feel electricity under his plating, where the therapist had touched him.

He plopped down on the floor, leaning against the crap-ass bed. He stared up, with his one optic, at Rung's collection of model ships, neatly kept on the shelves.

Such a nerd.

He dared shift his gaze, ever so slightly, to Rung as he spoke to him. Whirl even enjoyed the comforting sound of his voice, the dorky glasses, and the entrapping optics that Whirl observed beneath the lenses. The thin, wiry, limbs and complimenting orange paint job, brighter than the Sea of Rust.

Whirl, now, dared to think the thing he'd been avoiding all along.

_I kind of like him. Maybe. I'm not sure. Because, why would I like Rung? That doesn't make any sense at all—_

"Whirl? Are you listening?"   
  
"No. Zoned out."

"I asked if you were feeling alright. You seem....troubled," he observes.

"I'm fine. Also, can I go now? I have...important business to take care of."

Rung set down his pen on top of the datapad. "If you feel that you must go—"

"Yes, I do. Bye!"

Whirl ran out faster than Blurr. Having a crush scared him. He couldn't! That was just a wretched thing to have. It was horrible, and Whirl was very much afraid.   
______________

The ex-Wrecker felt just as much discomfort in his own bed as he did in Rung's office bed. He was awake, his processer filled with thoughts of Rung and dread from his developing feelings for the therapist.

 _I have a crush on Rung_ , he thought, forcing it to be out in the vast openness of his processor.

He did. Rung was amazing! Who couldn't like him? His spark was pure, forgiving, and his optics had a millennia worth of joy, patience, and wisdom behind them. He really did appreciate how Rung never pried for details, never forced him to speak of the atrocities against him, and inspired him to be a little less of a bad person. Magnificence, was what Rung was.

Okay, maybe Whirl really liked Rung.

Besides, having a crush on someone, dread aside, felt kind of good.

Whirl thought Rung deserved to know how much he really cares about him. Except, Whirl can only do so much with his claws.

He walked to the other side of the room, and retrieved a small metal chest. He jabbed it open with the tip of one claw, and examined the insides.

Watches. At least twenty that he'd decided to keep from his time as a chronosmith. (Back when he still had proper servos!) They were his best works, the most intricate designs and careful innerworkings.

Whirl sifted through them hastily, looking for one that he'd made many, many, vorns ago, several centuries before the war.

A watch of gold, with a shiny glass face and carefully written numbers in glowing blue ink. It's hands were crafted from the best slivers of titanium he could find, and it's bracelet attachment was crafted from links of gold.

He remembered that he made it for a future lover, a future conjunx, someone _special. Rung_ was someone special.

He placed his claw-tip on the smooth metal at the bottom of the watch, that concealed the mechanisms inside.

He'd left it blank, when it'd first been constructed, thinking that he'd engrave the designation of the special mech or femme on the back later.

So he did. In the best letters he could muster, which, were shaky but readable, all while being careful not to pierce the metal and damage the insides.

 _For Rung,_ he engraved.

Perfect.   
_________________________

Next therapy session, Whirl felt foreignly nervous as he waited for Rung's current patient to walk out. His appointment was in...he peered at the watch draped carefully over a lever on the inside of his cockpit...five minutes.

He paced around the corridor, very much tempted by the idea of sprinting away, but the thought of being so cowardly bolted Whirl to the floor.

Skids finally walked out, and Rung said his goodbyes. Then those wondrous blue optics found their way to Whirl. His spark soared, as per usual visit.

"Whirl! You're here early," the therapist observed. "Come in."

When he did, Whirl didn't even attempt to sit down. One, the bed wasn't very hospitable to him, and two, he couldn't sit down due to his jittery anxiousness.

Rung looked at him quizzically. "Whirl? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm standing."

Rung nodded, then started to record, and picked up the usual session.

It dragged on as it usually did, Rung talked to him and Whirl giving monotonous answers and occasionally adding input of his own.

As the session drew to a close, Whirl pulled the watch out of his cockpit. He thrusts it out towards Rung in the most ungraceful manner possible, and looked down at the blank floors of Rung's office, flustered.

"This is, uh, for you."

He dared peek at Rung's face.

Rung was surprised. His optics were wide with amazement and his intake was curled into a smile.

"Whirl," he gasped. "It's beautiful!"

"You're beautiful!" He blurts. "I mean! No you're not! I mean I really like you!"

Rung looks up at him. He's beaming. "Thank you for the watch, Whirl. I really like you, too."

Perhaps this was a simple lie. Maybe Rung only said this because he was supposed to, as consolation. But the look in his optics told Whirl he was being genuine. Someone actually cared for him. If he had a mouth, he would've been grinning.

Then Rung takes Whirl's claw with his servo, which is now ornamented with the watch, and wraps his digits around his claw-tip. "I'm proud of you, Whirl. For expressing your feelings so excellently."

"Uh, thanks…?" Whirl is still beyond nervous and flustered. He might just offline here and now.

Rung only smiles. "Well, Whirl, I'll see you later?"

"Yeah," Whirl says. "See ya, Rung."

Rung nods. Whirl scurries from the room, spark lurching in his chest with excitement and relief.

 _Primus_ , he really, _really_ liked Rung.   
__________

Little did Whirl know, Rung had activated his thumb microphone and started recording as soon as Whirl'd given him the watch. He cherished every second of that conversation, and now he sat, listening to it. A smile was plastered across his face, and he brought his brand new watch up to his optics to examine it.

A crevice glinted in the light from the bottom. Rung tilted the precious watch and saw to messily printed words on the bottom. For Rung.

His grin widened. Whirl...Whirl had written that! He'd taken the time and effort to sketch it out with his claw.

He slinked the watch back on to his thin wrist. Then he cradled his hand close to his chest, and spun around in his chair, a sweet, melodic laugh escaping his lips.

 _Primus_ , he really, _really_ liked Whirl.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
